This month is the second anniversary of the blog. As many of you remember, it started as a collection of big baby vaginal birth stories, which changed over the years into a collection of whatever women feel like talking about regarding their births. This focus was chosen in response to the growing trend of telling women that their baby is too big to be born vaginally and that they need to schedule a cesarean to prevent shoulder dystocia. I never put my own stories on the blog because I never thought this site was going to house such a high concentration of Jill. I have shared my experiences a few times in posts, though.
This summer has been about cleaning house, both literally and figuratively. I cleared off my hard drive and subjected you to viewing some of the finer visual items I purged.
We’ve been reunited (and it feels so good) with the books that have been boxed up for several years in the garage. Happening upon an old Bradley Method book brought back fond memories of the night I realized I might be going into labor five years ago. My husband whipped off his shirt and exclaimed something to the effect of, “Sweet! Let me go throw on my OP shorts and grow out my mustache!”
Ocean Pacific shorts, not Occiput Posterior shorts, in case you’re wondering.
I also came across a journal that I had forgotten about from the first few months of my almost five-year-old’s life. Entries are sporadic and document some of the quotidian events in her development and what we did together which were so interesting at the time.
Your c-section was scheduled for today. We decided that if we went into labor spontaneously the week before (your timing was great), we wouldn’t have a c-section. 22%* of all births are c-sections. There are lots of reasons for that, but we knew you would be OK.
Our daughter was born six days prior to this entry. I later found out from tracking my cycles (I am talking about my menstrual cycles again on the Internet. WTF? This I did not see coming in my life.) that I was not actually 38 weeks and 5 days along with her, but 39 and 5 days.
It was a midwife (from the U.K.) at the hospital that told me over the phone that usually when labor begins spontaneously, things go better. She also played Captain Obvious in pointing out the 5’11” gorilla in the room, noting that I am not exactly petite and that it might not be terribly strange that I could have a larger-than-average baby on deck.
We were first time parents. Neither one of us knew we would be okay (and, really, do any of us ever know that everything will be okay?) as I wrote in the journal entry. I thank my lucky stars that the other CNM and doctor were so over-the-top and so statistically vague in their descriptions of how dangerous vaginal birth would be because it sparked enough doubt for me to think, “Say, maybe I should research this.”
And research it I did.
I’m not done cleaning house. There is one bloated draft sitting here that I had originally intended to submit to Science and Sensibility’s carnival on keeping mothers and babies together, but got sidetracked enough that I decided to keep it tucked away on my hard drive rather than put Amy in the position of thinking what the heck is this hot mess?
So here’s where I drop some saccharine, schmaltzy appreciation for you all. First of all, I want to be my co-bloggers when I grow up. Thank you for everything. Secondly, to all of you who read and participate here or on the Facebook page and to those of you who read quietly and lurk, thanks for coming around. If you want your voice heard, please speak up in comments or with a guest post. We all appreciate you.
*The national rate was 30.3% in 2005. I have no idea where the 22% number came from (primary rate, perhaps?), nor do I know what I was referring to when I said there were “lots of reasons for that.”